


Code British

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV), Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), The Imitation Game (2014)
Genre: British insults, Extreme Crack, F/M, Fourth of July, M/M, Suggestive Sexual Content, The Author Regrets Nothing, Usage of Ethnic Slur, british accents, extreme OOC, extreme language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5789932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Neal hates the Fourth of July, British accents are truly hot, Mario is a Sherlock/JohnLock fanboy, Angus is bewildered, and Christa is seductive as a drunk patient portrays his patriotism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code British

**Author's Note:**

> I just started to think of a story - with only a very small amount of humor - of Neal dealing with a drunk patient on the Fourth of July. I had no idea that it would end up like this at all. I hope you enjoy this extreme different work of mine.

_Code British_

 

 

                There was a reason Neal Hudson often decided he hated the Fourth of July. It usually came in the late afternoon, when the words of abuse remained in his mind despite trying to digest them. The attending had decided to come to America because he wanted to learn from the best – not treating drunks on the Fourth of July that often made him wonder why he had come to this country in the first place. Neal had been in America for eight years…but yet it all remained the same.

                “We’ve got another drunk,” Malaya sighed as the ambulance’s flashing lights came into view. Neal nodded to her, inwardly thanking the first year resident as the other three came into view. All of the residents had learned that during the holidays, drunks were more often seen – especially on the Fourth of July. Perhaps it had something to do with _patriotic spirit,_ but the patients who came in on that specific July day often came with their blood alcohol level very high. Neal could see Christa look at the patient critically, as if wondering if the patient was better off lying in the parking lot. The blond resident had heard of how Neal was often treated by several drunks on this particular holiday during the conversations, and the Englishman almost chuckled at the sight of Christa slightly glaring at the patient.

                “Pupils reacting to light,” Neal stated as the gurney was being pushed into the ER. The other residents diligently followed. The patient groaned, his sweat-soaked brown hair flattened against his face, bloodshot eyes slightly reacting as Neal continued. “I believe you will be fine –”

                “Don’t…fucking touch me…” mumbled the drunk. His limbs started to flail, Neal holding onto one of the leg as Angus held onto the other. The residents had gotten used to the course language of the ER, and Neal held his breath. _That was tame._ “Fuck…you…fucking limey…”

                The room paused. Neal could see Malaya blanching in shock as Mario tried not to stare at the mumbling drunk who was complaining about tea and accents. Christa’s eyes flashed, anger starting to grow into her eyes as Neal sighed. _Here we go again,_ he thought.

                “Damn accent…”

                It was Angus who had reacted the most.

                “What…did he just say?” The light brown-haired resident swallowed and attempted to look at Neal as he failed to mask his horror.

                “It’s nothing,” Neal stated as he began to examine the patient again. “Now, Mr. – ”

                “Should’ve…drowned in the Atlantic…Ocean…”

                _I have heard worse, although I haven’t heard that one before._

“We are located near the Pacific Ocean,” Neal stated dryly as he ordered for an IV. “The weather there is supposedly cold, so I do believe I would die from hypothermia without your assistance.” The residents were all looking at him strangely, including Christa. The sarcasm and morbid humor was hardly ever seen in the older doctor, having always cared deeply for his patients.

                “ _Elementary_ …better than _Sherlock_ , damn you.”

                _Say that to my mother, and you will wish she never learned how to use a scalpel,_ the attending thought with increasing annoyance. He had dealt with several drunks during the ceaseless shift, and he was becoming tired. Of all of it. Which was why Neal was beyond surprised when Mario began to speak.

                “I don’t think so, really.” He glared at Angus to shut up because the resident had his mouth open. “What?” The dark-haired resident hissed as Angus continued to stare at Mario as if he had never seen him in his life. “It’s a good show, okay?” Malaya started to smile, and Christa gave a pointed look in Neal’s direction as if to say, _Even_ Mario _likes it._ Despite stating to the blond resident that he had no interest in popular culture of his home country, since they had begun (secretly, although Neal suspected that Leanne and Jesse knew by placing…protective items in his locker room without his permission) dating, Christa had become interested in anything and everything related to England. Neal couldn’t count how many times he heard her talking to his mother about the vague spoilers of the new _Doctor Who_ episode. Neal’s thoughts about the popular culture he had _no_ interest in came to a halt when Mario started to speak again. “Especially if you look critically at _The Reichenbach Fall_ – yes, Angus, I can say big words and that was title of the episode that actually broke the so-called black hear to mine.” Suddenly, his face twisted into rage. “I _hate_ fucking Moriarty! And that bitch Mary! I really hope that Sherlock and John –“

                Neal was spared the rant of the out of the closest JohnLock fanboy when the patient started to shout, “The British are coming! The British are coming!”

                Suddenly the drunk swayed before spitting at Neal’s face.

                The spit trailed down his cheek, but that did not faze Neal. No, he had been spit on too many times on this _bloody_ holiday too many time to count. Neal was about to call for a spit bag when the drunk fell silently on his pillow, drooling as he mentioned about “fucking redcoats and ruining our country with their magic…”

                “Is that from _Harry Potter_?” Angus whispered.

                No one answered him.

                “All right, he’s quiet now,” Neal stated as he used his gloves to wipe the spittle off his face. “Now –” He stopped at the looks on the residents’ faces, which varied from shock to dismay and – for Christa – rage.

                “Does this happen every time?” Angus whispered.

                “There are usually one or two drunks who do this, yes.” Neal replied. None of them were satisfied. “One year someone deliberately vomited on my scrubs,” the attending said with a slight sigh. “I was punched in the face a couple of years ago, and I was told to go home when I first started my residency here. I’ve had worse,” he stated.

                “Dr. Hudson –” Mario started to say.

                “I have had worse,” Neal repeated pointedly.

                “No, I was asking if you had any of the seasons of _Sherlock_.” Neal stared at the resident. He was serious. “I think John over here would like it.”

                “John?” Angus repeated with his eyebrows raised.

                “Doesn’t he look a lot like the blogger?” Mario stated almost wistfully. “He has the hair, the slightly round face, the same fucking annoying attitude –”

                “Who are you then?” Angus snapped with his arms crossed.

                “I’m Sherlock, of course.” If Neal had been an anime character, he would have face-palmed. “I have a similar shade of hair, I’m handsome, and I am mysterious.”

                “If you are _quite_ done with flirting,” the attending stated through gritted teeth, “we have a patient to take care of.” Christa looked him with a small smile. “What?” he asked.

                “You actually sound –”

                “Quite hot when you’re mad,” Mario finished in a faint whisper. _Oh bollocks to God,_ Neal thought as he stared hopelessly at the twin dilated eyes. “Your accent actually thickens when you’re upset. It’s quite _hot_.” Angus was looking concerned at the almost salivating male resident – whom had previously denied that he was _not_ gay like someone Neal knew – and Malaya was looking slightly disturbed.

                “You should see him in street clothes,” Christa said with the same aroused whisper. “Or nothing at –”

                _Please tell me I overdosed, and that this is an alternate reality,_ Neal silently pleaded. There of course was no answer.

                “There is a gift in my flat from my mother,” Neal stated shortly, looking pointedly at Mario as Angus was desperately trying to pretend that this was not happening. “It has all three _Sherlock_ DVDs _and_ a sighed _Sherlock_ poster by Benedict –”

                “Traitor!” Half-howled the drunk.

                “– Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman,” Neal stated as if the drunk had not spoken. “There is also _The Imitation Game_ if you enjoy a deluded version of history.”

                “Say, were Alan Turing and Hugh Alexander in love?” Angus was speaking very fast, as if embarrassed by what he was asking. “I mean…it seemed Alan had a crush on him.”

                “You _saw_ it?” Neal’s ears bled from the sound of Mario’s whining. “ _How_ could you have seen it? I heard it was good.”

                “It’s just that in the actual trial, Hugh actually _defended_ Alan, and he died nineteen years after Alan’s suicide –”

                “No!” Mario started to shout. “No! I can’t _believe_ you just spoiled it for me!”

                “If you enjoy a deluded version of history,” Neal muttered again under his breath. Hearing no answer, the attending continued. “I will give you the gift if you do not mention what happened here to anyone.”

                Mario’s eyes shone. “It’s like two Christmases!” he bellowed as he suddenly took Angus’ hand and ran from the ER with many patients and staff looking strangely at the insane two.

                Neal suddenly felt Christa behind him, her arms around his waist and her lips against his neck.

                “To the locker room, love?”

                Neal stared at the blond resident in shock.

                “The locker room?” _Not only would someone_ see _, it would be extremely disrespectful if we –_

Christa smiled easily, the sudden – and bizarre – seductive look in her eyes making Neal’s mouth dry. _And being called love, like… I never thought that would be such a turn on._

“It’s already been done once before,” Christa whispered as she slightly nibbled on his ear. Neal almost gasped, and struggled to contain himself as the blond resident – who really gave a shit, really, besides what’s-her-face who probably wanted to shag him more than Christa did? – continued to kiss him. As the attending _and_ resident slowly began to make-out in front of a drunk patient, Malaya had no _fucking_ idea what was going on.

                “Fuck my life,” was her only reply as she promptly left to drown herself in alcohol.

* * *

 

                Somewhere in a crappy apartment – or flat for us Anglophiles – in the early afternoon after hours of “so gay moments…”

                “I _told_ you,” Mario yelled as Sherlock began to restart his dead heart for a poor deluded John Watson. “I _told_ you that he was in love with John!” The resident started to shout at the screen. “Why don’t you just _kiss_ already?”

                Angus attempted to distract Mario by grabbing his hand. He saw the dark eyes wander to his own, and suddenly found it hard to speak or breathe. _Okay…Angus. Remember the signs that Sherlock taught you._

 _Eyes dilated._ Mario’s eyes – why hadn’t he seen of how beautiful those gorgeous brown orbs were before, goddamn it? – were wide, and his pupils almost covering the iris as both pairs of lungs continued to breathe shakily.

                _And…_ Angus slid up his hand to Mario’s wrist, remembering the scene with The Woman and Sherlock. _His pulse._ Rapidly, beating. Faster than his normal heartbeat. If Angus had been perhaps more sane, he would have wondered how he knew Mario’s regular heart rate. But he was too caught up in the chemicals of love to even understand.

                “If I am John and you are Sherlock,” Angus whispered, “why don’t we kiss…now?”

                “Shouldn’t it be snog?” Mario asked, his voice becoming faint as Angus’ eyes bored into his own.

                “Who _cares_ about the terminology?” Angus hissed. In the background, the love-sick and stupid – he should know that Mary _did_ mean to kill him by the location of that one bullet she shot into his chest, being the self-proclaimed sociopath that he is! – Sherlock found himself facing Mary in a very small hallway. _At least he stopped drooling at the picture of Benedict Cumberbutt, or whatever the sod’s name is._

                “You are…the best and wisest man that I know,” Mario whispered softly.

                Angus raised his eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a love confession?”

                “It can be,” Mario whispered, his baritone voice suddenly deeper and…sexy, for some reason.

                The kiss – with who knows how many episodes in the making – would be enough to make the hardest JohnLock fangirl have a wet dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I the only one who thinks Neal looked so hot in the street clothes he was wearing during the promo?


End file.
